


What's In A (Second) Name?

by shireness



Series: Killian Jones and the Lost Boy [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Father-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 13:01:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18700117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shireness/pseuds/shireness
Summary: The arrival of a new family member should be a happy time. However, the birth of Henry's little brother stirs up some unwelcome internal conflict.





	What's In A (Second) Name?

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while on these, hasn't it? If you haven't already read "Killian Jones and the Lost Boy", go do that first.
> 
> Rated G for straight fluff. Thanks to @snidgetsafan for her beta skills!

Killian Jones is a father.

Of course, that’s not new. He’s been a father for almost four years now, ever since Henry came into his life and made him one; that had been the proudest moment of his life.

Until Hugo.

He and Emma hadn’t really planned on another child, but they also hadn’t really planned against it. Maybe they should have; they’re living together after all, engaging in the sorts of activities that adults in love living together get up to. Killian certainly could have procured protective sheaths in his travels, or Emma could have been taking preventative herbs. Hell, either one of them could have searched down a contraceptive potion for one of them to take. It’s probably a small miracle they don’t already have a herd of children running around underfoot; Killian can’t even say they’ve been particularly conscientious about him pulling out. 

Still, it’s a surprise when Emma’s flow stops and nausea begins to plague her in the morning. Once they finally put the pieces together - gods, but the two of them are idiots sometimes, working themselves into a panic over something they should have probably anticipated - they’re undeniably thrilled, if nervous. They may be raising Henry together, but an infant is a very different thing from their seven year old. They aren’t even married, for goodness sakes, always putting it off as something they’d get around to eventually. 

That’s the first order of business he and Emma set out to rectify. They’re married on a beautiful day in the spring with all their friends and family in attendance, Scarlet leading the crew in tossing rice and flower petals over their captain and his new wife as they exit the little village church. Henry, of course, had stood as best man; no one would hear of anything else. Emma’s dress hadn’t quite covered her ever-growing stomach and their little one within, but everyone had been too purely happy to care - least of all Killian. That moment, sliding a ring onto his love’s finger, had felt like a piece slipping into place in his very soul. This, his family and the love they share, is everything he could ever need. Only the arrival of his son or daughter could make this feeling any better. 

And four months later, after a lot of waiting and a lot of pain and what Killian thinks might have been growling at one point in the whole torturous process, it  _ does. He  _ does. They have a baby, a son,  _ another  _ son. 

_ Hugo Lucas Jones.  _

“Are you sure you don’t want to give him your brother’s name?” Emma asks when it’s just the two of them - pardon, just the  _ three _ of them again after the midwife and Granny Lucas leave. She’s clearly exhausted, hair still drenched in sweat from her efforts with tired circles under her eyes, but she’s undeniably beautiful too - almost ethereal as she cradles their little one to her breast. Hugo himself is indescribably precious, a miracle with wisps of fluffy dark hair and ten perfect fingers and toes. Of course Killian had known that his child wouldn’t be born missing a hand like him, but those little fingers are still so amazing to him. Everything about Hugo is amazing, really - especially that someone as damaged as Killian, as scarred and maimed and morally compromised could be part of making something so perfect. He should probably leave Emma to rest and go retrieve Henry from where the lad has been waiting with Will and Belle, but Killian can’t tear himself away from the scene at his fingertips. Hugo nurses determinedly, little fist clenching and unclenching against his mother’s breast as Emma watches with unfiltered love in her gaze. Killian supposes he must look much the same; he’s barely dared blink since he first caught sight of his son, still covered in all manner of fluids and screaming at the indignity of the birthing process. Even now, his hand rests on the lad’s back, just above Emma’s own protective arms, unable to stop stroking along that downy soft skin. 

(Yes, he’s already a father, but a newborn infant is a very different thing from raising a four year old, and every little detail fascinates him. Gods above, but he loves their newest addition so much already.)

“I think Hugo Lucas suits him better,” Killian replies. There’s a niggling little fear in the back of his mind that if he speaks too loudly, whatever wonderful spell he’s living in will be broken, leaving him all alone again. “After all your hard work, it seems more fitting to name him for your family. We wouldn’t be here without Granny, after all.”

Emma lets out a little huff of a laugh at that. “Yeah, and the fact that she took her first vacation in a decade. You only had to deal with me because she was gone.”

“And I’m thankful for it every day,” he soothes, leaning in to carefully kiss his wife on the lips over their newborn. What a combination of words to even consider - that he has a wife and a baby and another son waiting just down the hill to meet his new brother. 

It’s not that he’s opposed to giving his brother’s name to Hugo for a second name. They’d originally planned on it, actually; Killian always thought he’d name his first son after Liam, if he was ever blessed with children, and Emma had readily agreed. How much Killian still looked up to his brother, had always looked up to him, was never any secret, and the closest thing Emma had to family herself were Granny and Ruby. But as they got closer and closer to the baby’s birth, and especially now that he’s here… it doesn’t feel quite right. Killian can’t identify why, but somehow it doesn’t feel like Hugo, as wonderful and precious and absolutely bloody perfect, is meant to carry the moniker. He just can’t put his finger on the reason why.

Not until an incident with Henry two months later, that is.

Henry  _ loves _ the baby from the first moment they’re introduced, gently stroking a finger down his brother’s cheek. “He’s so  _ small _ ,” he says, grinning up at where Killian is watching over his shoulder. It’s not a trust thing; he know Henry would never hurt his brother, and anyways, he’s had plenty of practice around babies in the past year since Will and Belle’s little girl was born. His lad knows exactly how careful and gentle he has to be. 

“Yeah, he is,” Killian grins back, ruffling Henry’s hair before looking up to meet Emma’s eyes. Gods, he loves her, loves  _ this _ . This little family, clustered around their newest member, is everything he’s ever wanted. The grin only widens as Emma smiles back, before he turns his attention back to Henry. “What do you think, lad? Should we keep him?”

“I think so,” Henry says decisively, nodding as if to cement his declaration. Killian barely stifles a laugh; it’d never been a serious question, obviously, and it’s not like they can just give Hugo back, but it’s nice to hear Henry so certain on the matter. It bodes well for all the years to come.

An illustrious start, indeed.

And for the first month and a half, that holds. Of course there’s little issues - no one is a huge fan of the baby waking up every few hours to cry for a change and a meal, but Henry gets especially irritable having his sleep disrupted, as 8 year old boys are prone to do - but the good moments far outweigh the bad. Henry loves telling absolutely anyone that will listen about his new brother when he and Killian venture into town for various supplies, and spends half of Hugo’s waking moments making faces to try and make the baby smile or laugh, even if both Emma and Killian have told him that it’s way too soon for that. Henry doesn’t care. It’s adorable. Killian feels the strongest urge to try and imprint the moment into his very soul every time he sees it. It’s all blissful, honestly - or at least it is until Henry goes back to school.

Henry loves school. As much as he loves summer vacation as well, like any young lad, at his core he’s a curious boy who wants to know everything about everything and has a million questions that Killian and Emma can’t even begin to answer. He’s a social butterfly, too - not that Killian is shocked, not with the way Henry twisted an entire pirate crew around his wee fingers from the moment he stepped on board the Jolly Roger - and he’s got plenty of friends in his year. Most days, he comes home bursting with new things he learned and the things he did with Bruno and Robbie and Mack and every single detail of the the scant few hours he was away from his loving parents. They don’t expect any different out of this year.

Henry is subdued when he comes home from school, though, barely talking about his day and picking at his dinner. It’s… odd. Then again, he is getting older. They’d expected some attitude changes, though maybe not this until they were into the teenage years. They’ve all been a little short on sleep, too, a slight cold that Hugo’s contracted driving Emma and Killian nearly mad with worry and keeping the entire family up at all hours of the night. As unusual as Henry’s behavior is, they’re willing to overlook it that first day, and even the second, identifying all kinds of logical excuses as to why he might be this way. It’ll pass soon enough when they’re all getting a little more sleep.

The thing is, it doesn’t get better. In fact, it’s been nearly two weeks, and Henry is still frighteningly subdued, without any reason that Killian can identified. It’s hard for either him or Emma to work more than a short sentence out of their boy, and he’s not even interested lately in his little brother. It’s a complete one-eighty from the boy he was only this summer, the cheerful lad they all know and love, and Killian and Emma are worried sick.

After eleven days, Killian can’t take it anymore. Maybe it would be more understanding parenting to let the lad come to them in his own time, but if someone - or something - has turned his boy into this brooding shade, then Killian wants to know. Anything is better than witnessing with his hands tied behind his back whatever is tearing Henry apart. So when he spots Henry sitting on the gentle slope outside their little house, staring out at the ocean (so much like Killian’s own habits when his own thoughts are a mess), Killian moves to join him, settling himself on the soft grass next to the boy.

“What’s up with you, little mate?” He asks, nudging Henry gently with his shoulder. As the lad has gotten older, he’s protested the “little” title more and more, reminding everyone of exactly how big he is. Killian remembers that same urge; after all, he spent a considerable portion of his own lifetime reminding Liam that he was  _ younger _ , not little. Now, though, Henry only shrugs. Another bad sign.

“Come now, lad,” he prods. “I know something’s the matter. You haven’t been yourself since school started.”

Another shrug.

“Are the other kids being mean? Do I need to go speak with their parents, or the teacher?” It’s been a while, but Killian thinks he could still manage to be intimidating if he needed to be. Maybe. It’s yet to be seen if the bags under his eyes will work for or against him. 

“No, nothing like that,” Henry quickly mumbles.

“What is it then? Because I’m serious, I’ll go talk to them, you’ve just got to tell me what happened —”

“Nothing happened, Dad,” he rolls his eyes. Definitely picked that up from Emma. “It’s just…” he pauses.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve just been been thinking about something Jack said.” Not one of Henry’s particular friends, if Killian remembers right. More of an annoyance, really, if he’s keeping the names straight, though the boys mostly stay out of each other’s way.

“And what’s that?”

Henry is quiet for a long moment, to the point Killian is worried he’ll have to start prodding again, before finally speaking. “I was telling everyone about Hugo,” he says. “And I was talking about —” He pauses. “It’s stupid,” the boy mumbles.

“Of course it isn’t,” Killian assures. “What were you telling them?”

“I was telling about how he had three names,” Henry mumbles, barely audible. “And Jack said that everyone has three names, because their second name is a family name. But I only have two names,” Henry concludes, tears glistening in his eyes, “because I don’t have a family.”

The words plow into Killian like a knife in the gut. “Oh, lad, that’s not true,” he protests. 

“It is though,” Henry says, tears openly spilling down his cheeks. “I wasn’t always with you. You’re not really my father.”

That’s the final straw for Killian. He can’t just sit here and listen to this as a patient observer; practically without conscious thought, he reaches his arms over and hauls Henry across his lap like he used to cradle the boy back when he was so much smaller. “Of  _ course _ I am, Henry,” he declares. “You  _ chose  _ me. I’ve been a father since the moment you made me one.”

“Not by blood,” Henry sniffles.

“Maybe not, but in every other way that matters. Family is about who you choose, and who chooses you. I’ve been your father since probably even before you named me that way, and I’m going to be your father even if you decide you don’t want me to be. Long past then.”

Something about that must sink in, as Henry nods where he buries his face into Killian’s neck. Absentmindedly, he rubs the boy’s back and makes shushing noises to calm Henry as he tries to sort out his words in his head. There’s something important to be said here, something that’s been niggling at him for weeks and is only now falling into place.

“You know, your mother asked after Hugo was born if I wanted to name him for my brother,” he says as casually as he can muster - like he’s just relaying facts, not touching on something deep and emotional.

Henry frowns at that. “But wasn’t your brother’s name Liam?” he asks.

“Aye. I thought naming him for your mother’s family suited him better. But you know what’s more?” he asks, making sure to meet Henry’s eyes. “That’s  _ your _ name. I’d always planned to give it to my eldest, and that’s you.” It’s not something he’s just saying, or meaningless platitudes; it  _ feels _ right, in a way that settles the little bit of him saying that Liam’s name is meant for someone else. “What do you say to that, Henry Liam?”

“You don’t have to,” he mumbles, but there’s a little smile tugging at his mouth and the tears seem to be drying. 

“No I don’t,” Killian concedes. “But it’s yours. It feels right, like it’s always been yours. You’ve heard my stories about Liam, right?” Henry nods. “Then you know that he was the best brother a man could have. He wasn’t perfect, and I don’t know if anyone else would think he was a great man, but I know that he was a good one, just like you’re growing up to be. You’re going to be an even better big brother than he was.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” Killian presses a firm kiss to the crown of Henry’s head, breathing in that perfect little boy smell, before moving to stand. “Now, what do you say we go back and see what Mom and Hugo are up to? I think she’s been watching us and pretending to do things in the kitchen while we’ve been talking.”  _ She’s been worried sick _ , he doesn’t say, but Henry probably knows it all the same. He’s always been too perceptive for his own good.

“Okay,” Henry agrees, popping back up with the energy of youth. As soon as Killian’s found his own feet, Henry throws his arms around his waist. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, my boy.”

It’s always been as simple as that - Henry is his, and he’s undeniably Henry’s. 

They chose each other, and it’s a choice he’ll never regret.

**Author's Note:**

> God, I love this 'verse. Maybe I can rustle up a few more of them. They're so soft, you know? Pure sweet fluff.
> 
> Also posted on tumblr - I'm @shireness-says. Come say hi, leave your reactions.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!


End file.
